Nothing to Worry About
by Koren Steen
Summary: Mike visits the Phone Guy in the hospital who actually lived, amazingly enough. A simple conversation ensues between the two employees of the infamous pizza place its name need not mentioned.


I ship these two dorks, it can't be helped. Trashy writing as usual. I just used the name "Scott" because describing him without a name ended up being awkward when I do it. Phone Guy's situation is based on guronenko's Phone Guy design which I wanted to take a crack on how those injuries came to be.

**Nothing to Worry About**

It's been three days since Scott's near death experience back in the pizzeria. Still in critical condition and therefore bedridden, he tried to ward off the boredom by listening to the radio which was set to a music station, playing nothing but hits.

As the last song faded, he heard the door open and came in a familiar figure, with him a bunch of flowers to add to his piling collection of get-well presents. The man looked a mess, obviously had not gotten any sleep yet, and still in his night watchman uniform. He looked at the clock. It was only a quarter to seven.

Seeing him, he greeted first as politely as he could. "Hello, hello," he chimed in his unmistakable tone. "You're that security guard we hired, didn't we? Mike… Schmidt, was it?"

"Yeah… Uh-huh!" he replied. He didn't know why he felt like gulping every few seconds but it just seemed to happen. "This is the uh, first time I saw you in person…"

"It must be weird hearing my voice and seeing me at the same time, right?" he joked.

"Exactly!" Mike said, relating to his remark. "You sound exactly like your recording. I would've thought you wouldn't be able to speak like that after…" Mike observed the state he was in, "…everything that happened to you."

His body was full of bruises and scrapes but even that description could not do justice as to what he went through. His one arm had been wrapped all the way down to his fingertips. As for his other arm… well, that's where he found himself staring at it far longer than he should, looking at the covered stub where the arm used to be.

When Mike got the news of a body being discovered within the vicinity and that when he was brought in, he was barely alive, he never expected that one of his limbs had to be amputated. So seeing him in his current condition just plain shocked him, and stood there with his get-well present he had yet to lay down on his bedside table.

"You barely escaped, I see…" he uttered meekly.

Scott noticed him becoming speechless and decided to help him out a bit. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't devastated when I woke up to find that it was gone," Scott flat-out admitted. "One of them got me and even though I managed to pull myself out well… er, doctors said that the damage turned out to be so bad that they couldn't treat it anymore so they had to cut it off. Apparently, my arm didn't stand a chance, you know?"

"Damn… I'm so sorry, dude," Mike said.

"Oh don't worry, I'm getting used to it," he reassured.

How positive he was, Mike thought. Then he noticed something more about the arm he lost and couldn't help but point out, "Wait, that's the right one you lost! D-does that mean you can't… H-how are you gonna wr—"

"Don't worry about that either," Scott said. "I'm a lefty."

"Ah, thank god!" Mike said, somewhat relieved thanks to that information. Then he just giggled for no reason, rubbing the back of his head.

"You know, you can just put them there," Scott said, referring to the flowers Mike was still carrying. He pointed to the table he should put them in, where the radio—now covered in petals resulting from the flowers given to him in the past few days beginning to wilt—was also located.

Mike placed them there as Scott suggested.

"You can put up the chair if you feel like sitting. It's under the bed."

Mike found the folded chair and set it beside the bed where he sat. It wasn't a big chair but it was tall enough for him to prop his arm on the mattress, just beside Scott.

"…You really came all this way?" the guy asked, a small smile forming on his lips trying to start a conversation.

"You're the closest I had to any form of human contact from that place," he said. "I had to wonder what happened after what I heard in your fourth message."

"Nice to know someone from work was concerned, unlike the management…" he mentioned.

"Well, you're not gonna know me as 'someone from work' any longer," Mike said.

"W-What do you mean?" Scott asked.

"I just got fired!" Mike said, looking quite happy for someone who had just lost his job. But when considering the type of job he was in, could he really blame him?

Scott fell silent for a few seconds. Mike continued to express his joy over being relieved of his duties.

"Isn't it great? I'm finally free from having to go back to that hell hole! So much for seeing them next week, right?"

"Wow…!" Scott said. "That is great, actually. That's the best thing to happen to anyone that worked there ever!"

"If that's the case, how come you insisted over and over in your calls that I stay?" he asked. "That was _very_ suspicious."

"I-I can't answer that, uh, question," Scott stammered, shamefully. "All I can say is that I was doing my job and so were you."

"Is that why you're still gonna work for them after everything that's happened?" Mike asked.

"Hey, in case you've forgotten, I believe that I told you I was finishing up my last week," he remarked. "In fact, I actually finished a tad earlier than I anticipated for obvious reasons…"

"So you're officially out of a job yourself…" Mike presumed.

"Uh, yeah," Scott confirmed. "Guess I am!"

"Hell yeah!" Mike cheered. "What say after you get a little better, we could hang out? Once you're up and walking again, I mean."

"Never hung out with a former co-worker before…" He thought about it out loud. "Hmm… Sure, why not?" In the end, he approved Mike's offer.

"Awesome!" Mike said. "Trust me, with me around, you're not even gonna know that you…" His sentence was suddenly cut off when he felt a yawn coming up. He turned away and yawned right there with a hand over his mouth.

"Guh, excuse me," he said, rubbing the tears. "I guess I forgot that I haven't gotten any sleep yet. The night shift screwed with my sleep schedule since and I can't go to sleep at night anymore."

"I figured as such," he said. "You came in here with your uniform still on."

Mike had forgotten about that somehow. So when that came back to him, he quickly ditched the hat off his head, muttering under his breath as he did. In the same vein, he unpinned the name tag on his chest before unbuttoning the security guard uniform, revealing the white tanktop underneath.

Scott just watched him shed his clothes, kind of worried that he might strip those pants also. Enough for him to suddenly exclaim, "Whoa there, buddy! There's like a cross hanging above my head, you know."

Luckily, Mike just stopped right there and wound up bareheaded and without a shirt. He saw the name tag on the floor, then he repeatedly stomped it with his own foot. "So long, night watchman Mike," he spat. "Hey, I already have a plan for when we finally _do_ hang out! We get your uniform and then we burn them together!"

"Er, right… as exciting as that sounds—" Scott lied. He thought it was rather maniacal, "—we wouldn't be able to since my uniform's pretty much destroyed during the struggle, you know?"

Scott saw that Mike was trying his best to stay up. He rubbed his eyes till they reddened and had stifled a few yawns in the last few minutes. Whenever his head felt like landing on the bed, he would jolt up and shake himself awake.

"If you wanna go home and rest, it's alright," Scott told Mike. "The nurse will be coming up here soon to—"

"No…!" Mike said, refusing to succumb from his exhaustion. "I'm still…talking to you, dammit!"

Mike yawned again. Rather than feel bad, Scott just began to chuckle while he shook his head over how stubborn he was. "Buddy, you need to sleep," he said. "You're beginning to collapse."

The tired ex-security guard mumbled something unintelligible. Scott saw him clutching on his sheets, trying not to fall over and without looking, had managed to touch his chest.

The sensation was awkward.

"I'm fine…" Mike said, groggily. He grabbed and grabbed something he couldn't see as he now had his face down on Scott's bed. "Trying to… straighten myself up, 'scuse me."

He better be careful where he was putting those hands as there were bandages on that part of his body as well, Scott thought. He was concerned that the man who was losing the will to keep his eyes open might pull some them off. "Well, he can't go home now if he's all sleepy like this…" he muttered to himself, after a sigh. Scott relented and stayed still, waiting where this will go.

Suddenly, Mike stopped moving, with his hands still placed upon his chest. He heard a loud snore. He looked to the side and there he was tuckered out.

Slowly and steadily, he used one hand to lift one arm off of him and then dropping it right by his face. Scott accidentally dropped the hand to Mike's face causing him to grunt. He didn't seem to mind since he just tucked the hand towards under his cheek and used it as his pillow. Mike would be crushing that hand to numbness and would certainly feel that once he wakes up.

Scott gave up and simply let him be. He looked at the clock and a few minutes had already passed since seven o'clock. He just realized something. That meant…

_"Excuse me, sir. Sorry I'm late."_

He heard the young nurse as she entered, off to bring his breakfast.

"How are you doing? Feeling better I…" The nurse trailed off as she looked up and observed the room around. "…hope?"

Right there, the clothes on the floor that belonged to the now-sleeping visitor with a hand on her patient's chest and speaking of whom, was bearing a flustered expression. It's what she was seeing. Scott fumbled in his thoughts, trying to find a way to deal with it.

"…Uh, hello…hello…?"

**-End-**


End file.
